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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918164">I'll Sing You Mornings of Gold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cim0rene/pseuds/Cim0rene'>Cim0rene</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wheel of the Year [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Labyrinth (1986)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Halloween, Samhain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:08:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cim0rene/pseuds/Cim0rene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah finds herself back in the Underground for Halloween.  A oneshot (maybe) for the LFFL fall prompts</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jareth/Sarah Williams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wheel of the Year [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008537</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'll Sing You Mornings of Gold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Everyone knew that Sarah Williams did not celebrate Halloween.  It was an unspoken and confusing rule to all her friends.  In college when everyone else was busy picking out their costume, which was typically just an objectification of whichever noun was popular that year, Sarah was busy turning down invitations.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” she’d say simply, “it’s just not my thing.  You go have fun.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And when her roommates would stumble home early the next morning they would find Sarah curled up in a chair, hands wrapped around a book.  If they were capable of thoughts other than rushing to the nearest bathroom, they would feel sorry for Sarah, home alone on Halloween with only a little red book to keep her company.  How boring it must be to spend a night all alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After college, when those who once dressed as sexy nouns began to coordinate couples costumes (whether it was with a human partner or their chihuahua was all a matter of personal preference), Sarah still turned down invitations to movie nights and haunted hayrides or elegant costume parties.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d shrug, “It’s just not my thing.  I’m just going to stay in.  You go have fun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the next morning around the breakroom everyone would share pictures of couples or kids or chihuahuas in impeccably coordinated costumes and Sarah would smile and shrug and assure her friends or coworkers or random strangers on the bus that she had a perfectly lovely evening even though she had not dressed anyone as a begrudging hamburger, dragon or cactus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What Sarah did on Halloween was a mystery very few people spent any time pondering.  From the outside, it looked like a normal night.  She would slip on a dollar store witches hat or cat ears, she’d dust off her old “Thriller” album and set it to play on the turntable.  She would light a few candles and gather up her favorite afghan (one her nana had crocheted many years ago). She would brew a large cup of tea and add a larger helping of brandy and wait for her doorbell to ring.  She’d ooh and ahh over the begrudging parade of coordinated hamburgers and short-order cooks, dragons and princesses, cacti and … cacti owners?  She’d offer double treats for kids who were probably just a little too old to trick or treat by curmudgeonly standards and she would have a lovely evening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then after a few hours, she would rinse out her tea mug, and fold the afghan back on its spot on the arm of the couch and blow out the candles.  She would turn off the record player and put “Thriller” back on the shelf.  She would stow the witch's hat or cat ears back in the closet for next year.  The Sarah Williams, the girl who never did anything fun for Halloween, would sit at her vanity (a banged-up relic from her childhood home) and wait, because what no one knew was that every year Sarah Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth, the Girl Who Ate the Peach and Remembered Everything, always celebrated Halloween in the Underground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the stroke of midnight, Sarah Williams would step through her looking glass mirror into a world of wonderful chaos.  She would spend a night filled with dancing fieries and glittering fairies, mischievous brownies, and a cadre of goblins.  There would be offers of Goblin Ale (declined) and Toss Your Head (also declined).  There would be bonfires and songs and stories into the dim hours of the morning when Sarah Wiliams, who never did anything fun for Halloween, would stumble home - jeans torn, shoes worn out and usually with more than a few twigs in her hair - and into bed.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone thought that Sarah Williams hated Halloween, but they didn’t know that not everything was as it seems in the Labyrinth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>XXXXXXXXXXXXXX</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah Williams had been celebrating Halloween in this manner for thirteen years after they had first realized that the veil between worlds grew thin enough on Samhain to allow her to cross back into the Labyrinth.  She looked forward to the night every year.  It was a night to forget that she was supposed to be a grown adult by now, with responsibilities and rent to pay.  It was the night she could forget just how cruel and lonely the real world was and this year should have been no different.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her watch beeped to let her know that it was midnight and she gathered up her things.  She checked her reflection in the mirror; her hair, still long and dark, spilled over one shoulder across a rather bedraggled hoodie and second-worst pair of jeans - she had learned long ago that Underground Halloween parties were hard on clothes.  She shrugged her shoulders redistributing the weight of her backpack across her back - it was filled with a thermos of cider for her and bags of Halloween candy.  The thermos was to make sure no one tried to slip her Goblin Ale, a toxic substance that blurred the vision just by smell alone.  The Halloween candy was for her friends, chocolate for Hoggle and Didymus, jawbreakers for Ludo, and bags and bags of the cheapest, waxiest candy corn she could find for the goblins.  She never understood the Goblin craze for candy corn, but she could only liken the image of a swarm of goblins falling on the plastic bags like a video of feeding piranhas she had once seen on the nature channel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stepped through the mirror, and there was always that momentary feeling of nothingness before her feet touched down on the solid ground.  Sarah looked around and smiled.  All around her was wonderful chaos.  The party was clearly in full swing already - bonfires littered the courtyard of the Goblin City, some even looked intentional.  Sarah grimaced as she took in the decorations - during her second Halloween in the Underground she had introduced the idea of carving Jack ‘o Lanterns and the practice had caught on quickly.  However, the Goblin City lacked pumpkins but made up for it in turnips, which though authentic, had the tendencies to look truly disturbing when carved by hyperactive brownies and inebriated goblins.  Before her sat a stack of said Jack o’ Turnips and Sarah was pleased to see only a few were actively on fire so far but disturbed to see that one contained what appeared to be a full set of dentures set it’s gaping maw.  Thirteen years of goblin antics had taught her it was best not to ask questions she didn’t want to know the answer to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The night went as expected - there was the head throwing competition, and the first ale drinking\ competition.  There was a chicken decorating show and the annual candy corn dogpile.  The goblins regaled her with songs, mainly about chickens, but with one stand out, an ode to candy corn, and Sir Didymus stood on the Goblin City fountain and recited epic poetry, this usually sobered up the crowd and was followed, quickly, with the evening's second ale drinking competition.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was during the second ale drinking competition, of which there were either many losers or many winners, that Sarah usually excused herself to wander the grounds.  She loved the castle grounds and at night fairies glittered in and out of the bushes like mischievous fireflies.  She took a sip from her thermos as she rounded a turn in the garden path.  The metal thermos let out a resounding clang as it slipped from her fingers and tumbled to the ground.  There in front of her, in the glittering fairy lights of the night garden, stood the Goblin King.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>XXXXXXXXXXXX</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been thirteen years since they had last stood in front of each other and she had made sure to stay away on her many trips through the mirror over the years.  She had gotten used to the idea that she could slip over and not worry about facing the king, in fact, this time it hadn’t even crossed her mind that they could meet and now there he was - hair wild like she remembered, dressed not in his battle leathers, all spikes, and threats, but rather just in a simple poets shirt and black breeches, look regal and elegant in its simplicity.  She on the other hand was standing in a puddle of apple cider in her second-worst blue jeans and a sweater she had pulled out of a lost and found box at a high school summer job.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He quirked a sharp eyebrow at the sight of her and his expression was unreadable.  A brief thought flitted across Sarah’s mind that she wasn’t sure if she was about to be swept into his arms or swept into the Bog.  She opened her mouth to stammer out an apology, an excuse, anything, but no sound came out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, well, well,” the Goblin King drawled, “what have we here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry… I just…. I’m here for the party.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes, the party.”  He approached her with silent steps and she felt herself tense at the closeness of him. “I believe you’re to thank for the turnips and the candied vegetables.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Candied what?  Do you mean the candy corn?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that is it.  It really is wonderful stuff.  It leaves my denizens in a stupor for most of the next morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry, I didn’t…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be sorry,” he said with a sardonic bit in his voice. “The morning after Samhain is now blissfully quiet for multiple hours in a row.  I almost have enough time to put out all the fires.  It really is a boon to your secret adventures here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think you knew…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t think I knew about your coming and going from my own kingdom?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I never saw you so…Thank you, for letting me come back.”  She dropped her eyes to the flooring, feeling like a child asking forgiveness when they should have asked permission.  “It… well, it’s meant a lot to me … to be able to come back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He arched an eyebrow, “Haven’t you learned never to thank the Fae?  We tend to take these words very, very seriously.”  Her heart dropped for a moment.  “However, you have no need to thank me… if I remember correctly, I have no power to stop you.  You may come and go as you please, it is naught to me. Though I don’t know what you see in such affairs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah bristled at this and found her feet moving her closer to him without her approval.  “I’ll have you know that Goblin City Halloween is the highlight of the year.  I’m sure it’s nothing to you since it lacks roofied food and glitter waltzes and what other debauchery you probably get up to on the holidays, but it’s the highlight of my year and I love it.  Maybe if you weren’t stalking around all high and mighty with your tight pants and poofy hair you’d relax for a minute and have some fun.” She paused for a moment considering what was in front of her.  Not just the pants, but the whole person. (Okay well perhaps a bit focused on the pants)  “Why are you here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why Sarah, do I need a reason to stalk about in my tight pants in my own gardens?”  Sarah was immediately glad for the dim light as she felt her face turn hot as he flashed a crooked smile at her. “I have my reasons.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will you tell me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at her seriously for a moment and then shook his head, “No, I think not today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, keep your secrets, it’s naught to me,” she mimicked in her best haughty accent and was surprised when he laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well I suppose I deserved that.  I should… excuse me, you’ll be wanting to get back to your friends.  Please do not let me keep you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, I mean, I usually end my nights in the garden… it’s the best part.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah could hear the strains of music reaching out to her in the air, and she smiled.  The night was winding down and coming to a close which meant it was time for her favorite part of the Halloween celebration.  She looked around and sure enough, the flickering lights in the bushes were floating away down one of the stone paths.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is that?” He asked, turning his head to find the music, his mismatched eyes lit up for just a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re kidding, right? It’s the fairies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked back at her over his shoulder, “The fairies?  Those screeching, biting little heathens?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The same.  You mean you’ve never seen them sing the night to rest?  How long have you been the king here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Much too long.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, apparently not long enough.  It’s the most amazing thing… would you like to come with me?  You really should see this, it’s the most amazing thing.”  She held out her hand, a simple gesture, and immediately felt like an idiot.  “Sorry, it’s… I’m sure you have better things to do, you know goblins to kick, things to scowl out, people to bog.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned on her heels, having immediate flashbacks of aquanet and high heeled shoes and middle school dances, and started to walk away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you are in luck,” he said, suddenly at her side.  “The bog is currently being closed for improvements and goblins are probably in a drunken pile in the fountain by now so I seem to have a convenient gap in my schedule.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about the scowling?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled a thin kind little smile that made Sarah’s heart do things her brain did not want to process right now. “I see nothing to scowl at right now.”  He offered her his arm, “Please lead the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walked in silence for a while, her arm linked with his, following the trail of fairy lights throughout the garden until they came to a small walled courtyard.  In the center sat a simple fountain, impressively goblin free and shining in the evening light.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Sarah whispered, taking his gloved hand in hers and leading him to a corner of the bushes where a stone bench stood.  She pulled him to sit next to her, noticing his warmth as the tried to sit comfortably, but not too close to each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are we waiting for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhh.” She hissed, holding a finger to his lips, careful not close the distance between them as he motioned with her head to the fountain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if on cue the faint music around them picked up, turning from a gentle hum to a rhythmic thrum, hundreds of little voices joining into a song in a language she could never know.  They floated toward the fountain in a wave of soft light until the music changed, a harmony shifted becoming more detailed as the floating creature's movement started to change directions.  They built on this change notes and rhythms and directions and speed never becoming chaotic or dissonant, until Sarah and the Goblin King found themselves surrounded by an intricate, ancient rite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though transfixed Sarah stole a glance to her side.  Beside her no longer sat a sullen, sarcastic Goblin King, all harsh lines and cruel glances.  No, next to her sat a man, mismatched eyes wide with wonder, face alight and a soft, wide smile free of taunting games or trenchant lines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They sat together in silence, swimming in song and light until the morning light broke across the horizon and the fairy dancers broke apart bit by bit, the song returning to it’s original refrain, which slowly drifted away on the wind.  When the last of the refrain had drifted away the Goblin King rose to his feet and turned to her holding out his hands.  She placed hers in the soft leather which encased his fingers as he helped her to stand, face to face with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he whispered as if he did not want to break the fragile tension which hung in the air around them, “that was truly amazing, Sarah.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Was that a thank you?  Are you now in my debt?" She smiled but brushed it away as a joke before he could respond, “You’re welcome… Jareth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt his hands twitch light at the use of his name, but he smiled.  “I should… get you home.  The night is almost over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment something pulled at her to refuse, something unreasonable and daring wished to know what would happen if she stayed just a little longer.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He bent closer to her and haltingly placed a kiss on her forehead, the touch tingling on her skin as he broke away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps, my dear… until next time...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And as Sarah opened her eyes, the feeling of the kiss still sending small waves down her body, and a golden morning light filtering in through her bedroom window that she realized that wasn’t sure if that had been a question.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I meant for this to be a fun one shot, but I think perhaps there's a little more story here to explore.  Another installment is being mulled over for Yule and New Years.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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